


Cold Courage

by abrahamsdaughterraisedherbow



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue, Suicide Attempt, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrahamsdaughterraisedherbow/pseuds/abrahamsdaughterraisedherbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all this time, she still doesn't believe he can love her. Post-Mockingjay, pre-epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Courage

She puts her face in the musty shirt and breathes in District 12, breathes in the shivering winters and sweltering summers, breathes in Buttercup, breathes in  _her_. Prim. Cold emptiness fills her.

She does not know how to live without her little sister. She does not know how to live, period. To free herself from this aching dull void that she can’t seem to fill.

* * *

 

He looks up from his painting.

Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.

He can’t put his finger on it, but something propels him from his seat and out the door, toward her house. The door is ajar, and a note lies on the front steps, almost invisible against the white slush.

He picks the note up and reads the one short sentence on it before dropping it, turning around and running toward the forest.

* * *

 

She comes to the bridge over the lake, peering down at the water. It’s frozen over, as if the universe is telling her not to do it.

Not to die.

It’s too late for her. Let them try to stop some other broken soul.

“Katniss!”

* * *

 

He isn’t too late. God, he isn’t too late.

“Katniss!”

“Peeta, go back.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She steps closer, her arms extending. Like a bird. Like a mockingjay.

“You can’t do this, Katniss, please! Please don’t do this.”

“She’s everywhere,” She says, and her voice sounds foreign and strange when she says it. “She’s everywhere. I see her in everything. I smell her. I breathe her. It hurts.”

“Katniss, please come here. We can talk about this. Please, come talk to me. We can get through it.”

“She’ll never get to live. She’ll never marry. She’ll never have a baby, or grow old, or…”

She trails off, staring back down at the water.

“I did that.”

He feels his eyes start to well.

“Katniss, that wasn’t your fault. Katniss, please, come down from there.”

She continues to stare down at the water. Another step.

“Don’t leave me alone!” He howls. “Please, Katniss!”

She closes her eyes, her unspoken goodbyes to him still lingering as she plunges into the icy depths.

* * *

 

“No!” He runs unsteadily down the hill towards the ice and throws himself in. It’s freezing to the point where his lungs want to lock, but he fights it, crashing through the ice as he yells for her.

She’s somewhere in the middle of the lake, having jumped off of the bridge, and he moves in that direction. Frantic, he searches around for her, calling her name through his wobbling voice.

She floats in the water a short distance away, face-up, trapped under a sheet of ice.

He dives under the solid plane of ice and grabs her, them splashing to the surface. His muscles are on fire against the freezing dark water. She lies limply against him, dripping wet, not breathing.

He gets her onto shore and blows air into her mouth, pushes on her chest. And again. And again.

She inhales, finally, and starts to cough up water. He turns her on her side so she doesn’t choke.

The next breath of air she inhales brings tears to her eyes because of how cold and sharp it is. She opens her eyes and looks around. He waits, fuming, until her eyes land on him.

“What - “

He grabs her roughly and sits her up, forcing her to face him. He shakes her.

“How – how  _dare_ you,” He snarls, livid. “You were going to die? Just leave me to deal with everything? After all we’ve been through? How dare you leave me to face it all alone. How  _dare_  you. What gives you the right? You - you -”

He shakes her again, and she begins to whimper, her teeth chattering as she shivers.

“You’re not allowed to do that. You have no right. I love you. I love you. I love you. Damn it, Katniss, you stupid, selfish - “

And then he has his hands on her face, kissing her.

“Oh – Katniss - “ He’s sobbing between kisses, breath gulping in the chilly air as he presses his lips to every bit of her face he can find. “Katniss – my Katniss - oh – oh – Katniss – my love – Katniss - “

She’s crying too, weakly, as he pulls away from kissing her and holds onto her, tightly enough to break every bone in both their bodies, tightly enough to pull her into him and shelter her completely.

* * *

 

He carries her all the way back to her home, kicking open the door and taking her inside. He climbs the stairs with her easily, stopping only to push open the door to her bedroom.

On the floor, he sees her sister’s reaping outfit, and he understands. He lies her down on the bed.

“Wait here,” he says.

He takes the outfit, goes to the guest room down the hall, and puts it on the bed, straightening it neatly. Then he goes to her closet and gets her some warm, dry clothes. He does this all in record time, since he is scared out of his mind to leave her for even a moment.

Her body is nearly convulsing due to the temperature inside and how wet her clothes are. He undresses her, stopping at her undergarments.

"Change," he says shortly, holding out a fresh pair of underwear and a clean bra.

She blinks, then giggles, her eyes slightly out of focus.

"Don't you want to do that?" She moves toward him, hand outstretched as if to pull him into the bed with her -

"Katniss," he says severely. She jumps away guiltily. Slowly she starts to peel off her remaining clothing. He turns his back to her.

He puts her in a clean gray shirt and black pants, and wraps her in a blanket. He takes her wet hair and pulls it out from under the blanket, so she will be warmer. He rubs his hands up and down her arms until the shivering mostly stops.

She just stares at him, stares right through him. He decides not to look directly into her eyes as he pulls the blanket more tightly around her and continues to warm her up.

* * *

 

She thinks she begins to come back to herself, just a little. Peeta is here, and whether or not this is a good thing is still unclear to her. But then, she still hasn’t really re-entered her head yet.

* * *

 

He isn’t leaving her alone tonight. Or possibly ever again.

After he’s bundled her up sufficiently, he gets under the quilt on the bed, her sitting on his lap. Her head is nestled under his chin and she’s still shivering a little.

He puts both arms around her and pulls her closer. The feeling of her warm, vibrating, blessedly alive body flush against his almost makes him want to cry, and he does, a little, a tear or two escaping.

“Don’t,” she murmurs suddenly, sitting up and looking him in the face with those eyes that still don’t seem to see straight. Clumsily she reaches out and wipes away his tears with her hand.

“Don’t,” she says again. “Don’t cry.”

He pulls her to him, a hand tangled in her hair. “You scared me.”

He feels her arms hesitate for a brief moment before coming to wrap around his neck.

“You can’t…you can’t do that again,” he says. “You can’t. Never again.”

She sighs heavily.

“Stay with me,” he whispers.

He forces her to face him.

“Stay with me,” he repeats. She closes her eyes, leans her forehead onto his. He brushes hair out of her face, strokes her cheeks with his thumbs.

She doesn’t reply.

* * *

 

She finds that it’s easy to fall asleep tonight, as it hasn’t been for such a long time. Perhaps it’s the reminiscent memory of his arms lulling her to sleep, but she hadn’t realized how much every part of her has missed his presence. Her arms reach up to loop around his neck, for security. No matter what tomorrow brings, she doesn’t have to lose him tonight.

* * *

 

He holds her as she sleeps peacefully against his chest, pulling the blanket more tightly over her thin shoulders and running his fingers through her still slightly damp hair.

He cries. Tears run down his nose as he keeps holding her, intending never to let her go.

She tried to force that today. The two words on the snow-dampened piece of paper are burned into his memory, words that he prays one day he can erase.

She had thought, no doubt, that she was saving him. Rescuing him from a life of having to care for her, protect her, love her when she was so damaged. After all this time, she still doesn’t believe he can love her. His body shakes a little from his silent sobbing. 

He presses his lips to her forehead, his fingers coming to stroke her soft cheek, to feel her blessedly still-warm skin. She’s alive, he tells himself, she’s  _alive._  And though her quiet breathing and thumping heartbeat are sounds he clings to in relief, those two heart-stopping words remain:

_Goodbye, Peeta._


End file.
